Beloved
by Arcie Lee
Summary: Set after the first movie. Isaac still reigns, Malachi is still his henchman, and the Outlanders were sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Huzzah! MalOC R&R Chapter 5 is up biatches!
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:** They were sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows as wanted. Isaac kept his reign through his connection to Him, Malachi still his enforcer, more passive and not as mutinous. The continual sacrifices were stopped abruptly when Rachel brought to their attention their society was dwindling. Isaac spent six days in solitude and return with a simple command from Him, 'That when the brothers and sisters come to age, they shall find their Other Beloved and continue the lineage of the Children of the Corn'.

**Chapter I**

Isaac watched her. He had an infatuation with Rosalyn. A year after the pair of Outlanders, when it was her fifteenth year, he noticed her, truly noticed her. Curves that pressed against her simple cotton smock, her face thinned out and her complexion cleared and grew rosy. He inquired daily with Him who she was meant to commit fornication, who would be her Other Beloved and had nothing.

She was unaware, simple and devoted to Malachi only. Less than a year from her coming of age and she wished he would become her Other Beloved. She ignored the pair of intent eyes and pushed deeper into the corn field, towards the outskirts where the concrete road lay. Her basket was partially filled, mostly because the fields had been stripped. They never attempted the outskirts, Isaac said He forbade it.

Malachi was quiet, his footsteps light. He watched her push through, a knuckle white grip on her woven basket. She broke out onto the main road, 21 miles West was Hemingford and 2 miles east was Gatlin.

She hummed softly, old tunes her father played before Isaac and the Deliverance. Her fingertips brushed along the leaves of the stalks, stopping occasionally to pluck a husk and drop it into her basket. She thought about little Sarah and Job and wished for conversion. Sweet but stubborn children. She thought about Isaac and the intense gaze she ignored. She knew it was lust and not His will. She thought of Malachi, a passionate boy turning broken man. He was at the age but He had not picked out an Other Beloved for him yet. She mussed over her ideas for a present for his seventeenth year. Gifts were not forbidden, but not condoled either. If given, it was kept to one's self.

Malachi had given her a locket he found amongst the Unmentionables and polished it back to gilded shine. She placed her hand on the bulge it caused by the collar of her dress. She was halfway through a flannel shirt, but wanted something more personal to give him.

Down the road she heard the simultaneous roars of a Harley Davidson. FLH 1200 Super Glide, 1970. Her father had worked on one for months, a gift for her brother's return from Vietnam. The received the letter declaring his MIA and the Deliverance fell through several days later. Her brother never came home.

The engines roar dulled to a low rumble and then nothing. The man was large and bearded like his friends; he kicked his peg stand and swung a leg over, moving towards Rosalyn. 'What's a pretty thing like you doing out here by yourself?'

She pulled the basket to her chest and stepped back for his step forward. 'Gathering this year's harvest for my brothers and sisters.'

He looked around, 'Any of them near by?'

She kept his gaze, 'Possible.'

The other two men dismounted as well and began to crowd her. 'You have a boyfriend, there, Miss Thing?'

She shook her head, 'But soon I will have an Other Beloved. I am not of age yet.'

'But your age is fine for other things.'

She tried to twist from his grasp, her basket tip sending corn heads onto to road. They cornered her, pulling at her dress. She screamed. One doubled over, a knife buried into his back so deep there was not sight of the blade. They retreated from Rosalyn, pulling out their own switch blades. Malachi moved out from the stalks and reached over to retrieve his knife.

The shock of the teenage murderer startled them for a moment; the first one lunge at him, the other following pattern. A clash of blades and punches and kicks, a deep throated scream and an echo of another, left only Malachi standing, his balance wavering, his knife red and held limply. She faced him, her mouth gaping for words. 'You're bleeding,' she managed.

He glanced down, 'It is their blood,' he gestured to the bikers.

She moved towards him, her hand resting on his stomach; Malachi flinched at the touch. Her fingers trailed a long gash about four inches long but shallow. 'That is yours,' she dropped to her knees, tearing away her hem and blotting it gently. 'We must get you to AID.' Her attention fell to another gash, deeper, on his left forearm.

He nodded, 'Tell Isaac of the Outlanders. He will send others to dispose of them.'

'How grateful I am you managed to be so close by,' she commented, raising her eyebrow.

He avoided her eyes. 'Yes. Fortunate.'

She sighed and they moved through the stalks back towards the clearing. She stumbled and he caught her around the waist, wincing in pain. Rosalyn spun around in his arms, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders, his on her hips. 'You okay? You strained yourself, didn't you? Let me fall, Malachi.'

His grip tightened, 'Rosalyn—'

'What has happened?' A voice called out.

They tore apart and turned to see Rachel running towards them, her skirts hiked up to her knees. 'Malachi! Are you bleeding?' She called over her shoulder, 'Fetch Isaac! Malachi is hurt!' The twins, a recent addition from a tourist family, turned heel and ran to the barn.

Rosalyn looked at Malachi who stared unabashedly back. She swallowed hard and followed the twins.

- - -

'Outlanders?' Isaac repeated. 'So close?'

'Apparently, the meant to cause harm to Rosalyn, but Malachi prevented that from happening.' Rachel finished, her cheeks warm.

'Rosalyn is fine?'

Jealousy twisted her heart, 'Yes, Isaac. She is with Malachi now in the barn.'

'Send word to her,' he turned away and gazed out the church's stained glass window of Jesus and a dove. 'I wish to speak to her.'

Her eyes trailed his backside and her face grew warm again. 'Yes, Isaac' and left wordlessly.

_Oh, Rachel._ Isaac sighed out loud. Devote. Head-strong. Faithful. She was a true believer. She would be a suitable Other Beloved, if he was not convinced Rosalyn was to bore his heir. Her sixteenth was now five months away, and she would become of age and then his companion by command of He Who Walks Behind the Rows.

_I wish for Malachi to have Rachel._ Isaac thoughts went to Him, silent prayers. _It would be compatible._

'You wished to see me, Isaac?'

He looked over his shoulder to see Rosalyn leaning against the door frame. 'Yes, Rosalyn, come in.' She stepped in tentatively. 'I heard of the incident; Malachi is well?' She nodded brusquely. 'You were on the outskirts, I've been informed. Rosalyn, they are forbidden for a reason, you understand?' She nodded again, her fists clenched and arms stiff at her sides. 'Good, so you understand why you must be punished.'

Her head shot up, her mouth slightly open. 'Punished?'

'Nine lashings,' he turned to face her fully. 'A reminder that this could have been avoided had you stayed inland.'

'Isaac, I only meant to—'

He held up a small hand, a small smile spread on his small face, 'Excuses are never welcome with Him, Rosalyn,' he voice low. 'It must be done.' He waved her away, 'It will be dealt with later, once I have seen Malachi.'

She left mutely, her soft footsteps echoed off the hall's walls. Isaac smiled to himself. _Rosalyn is the one. If only she can rid of this bout of self dependence._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

The sun's rays stretched across Malachi's face. He squinted and rolled away, digging deeper into the straw mattress. His arm and stomach still ached dully. He had dreamed of Rosalyn; he had heard her screaming. He ran through the fields, trying to find her. Those screams still echoed in his head.

He sat up in bed; the screams were clear now.

He looked out the window; strapped to a stake set in the ground, backside exposed, was Rosalyn. Jacob recoiled the whip and struck again. Her body arched forward, her screams shattering.

Malachi was on his feet and to her in moments before the next strike. 'Stop!' He yelled, stepping in front a fraction too late. The tip bit into his shoulder but he seemed unfazed. 'What is this?' He asked the crowd of surrounding children.

He reeled on Jacob, who threw his hands in the air, dropping the whip. 'Isaac ordered it. He wanted to make an example out of her. Punishment for going to the forbidden road.'

'I told her to go to the roads and to gather corn,' he lied. Rosalyn's look was pleading, but he ignored her. Malachi unsheathed his knife and cut the ropes binding her wrists. She crumpled to the ground, gathering the front of her dress to her chest. 'What is left?'

'Six more, Malachi.'

He tore off his shirt and grabbed hold of the stake. 'Finish.' Jacob hesitated. 'Finish!' Malachi yelled.

It ripped through his fleshy backside; beads of blood trickled down and stained the top of his jeans. The second had more snap but left only a welt.

Back in the barn, Rosalyn soaked a rag in peroxide and began to wipe away the dried blood, blowing softly to ease the stinging. 'Malachi,' she whispered, 'why are you such a martyr?'

He inhaled sharply threw clenched teeth. 'Rosalyn,' his voice was warning.

She stood up and walked to grab gauze and tape. 'Isaac will be angry,' her tone grew hushed. She began to rub an ointment on the gashes. 'What if he does something worse than a lashing?'

Malachi shuddered at her touch. 'Are you hurt?' He turned to her.

She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. 'Jacob doesn't have a strong arm. The second one barely bled.' She walked back to the shelves, grabbing more ointment and bandages. He craned his neck; the back of her smock was soaked with blood.

When she turned around, Malachi was on his feet. 'That doesn't look right.' He turned her around and began to unbutton her dress. She tried to stop him, but he continued, firm but gentle. Three deep gashes glowed brightly on her pale backside. He cleaned and bandaged them and buttoned her dress back up.

She turned back to him. 'Thank you,' she whispered.

His fingers combed threw her hair down to the tip of a curl; he pinched his fingers together and tugged softly.

'Isaac wants to see you Malachi,' they both turned to see one of the twins standing in the doorway. 'Now.'

He looked back at Rosalyn and pressed his lips together. 'Go,' he pushed her gently. 'Keep out of sight. I'll come find you.'

The house was empty and forbidden, like anything else modern in Gatlin. She hid here with Sarah and Job, kept watch while they played games and tore up any drawing Sarah created. They were sprawled on the floor in their parent's old bed room, playing Operation. 'Sarah! You can't tip the game over!'

'But I gotta get the stuff out without it hitting the buzzer!' She protested, emptying the little plastic pieces back into the box.

Rosalyn continued to sow on buttons on the flannel shirt she was working on for Malachi. Sarah abandoned the game and crawled into her lap. 'Are you making this for Jobby?'

Rosalyn smiled, 'No, for Malachi.'

Job made a face. 'Is he your boyfriend?'

'We don't have boyfriends, Job, we have an Other Beloved picked out for us by He Who Walks Behind the Rows.'

'I like Malachi now that he stopped being so mean.' Sarah played with the hem of the shirt. 'You made him nicer when you kissed him.'

Rosalyn froze. How did she know? 'I saw you behind the barn. I was play hide and seek with Jobby and the twins.' Before she could get the words out, Sarah said, 'We won't tell Isaac. He'll just get mad. Everything makes him mad. Cross our hearts and hope to die.' Job nodded enthusiastically.

Rosalyn gave a small sigh of relief. After the Outlanders had been given to Him, she found Malachi, leaned up against the barn wall, staring into the corn fields. She walked up, cautious, and laid a hand on his shoulder. She always admired him and it was recent she realized she loved him. He looked up at her and she squatted down next to him. 'You did what was wanted by Him.'

He looked at her, his expression empty. She sat next to him, her legs curled underneath her. Her hands lifted and rested on both sides of his face and she leaned in, letting her lips brush against his own. His expression was empty, his eyes darting back and forth between hers before grabbing the back of her head and kissing her back.

'I heard someone,' Job whispered. They threw the game and record player underneath the bed and she hurried them into the closet. She pushed them towards the back, her breathing shallow.

The door opened and Malachi stood there, the left side of his face swollen and blue. 'Malachi!' she gasped. 'Who did—'

'The hand of God,' he replied, brusquely. 'Come, a sermon begins this half hour. Everyone is to go to the clearing, you included, Sarah and Job.'

They left the house, the kids walking between Malachi and Rosalyn. She stole glances, each time a fresh set of tears swelled in her eyes at the site of his bruised face. Malachi stared straight forward, his eyes never leaving what was in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **Fluffy for now. Reviews are appreciated. I'm glad you liked it babigrl875luv. I hope you continue reading.

**Chapter III**

Those gashes had become infected. Malachi laid stomach down, sweating with fever and shivering from chills. She kept on clean gauze, dabbed his forehead with a cool rag, and fed him small bits of bread and soup. The six lashes slowly healed and scabbed over to a point where he could lay on his back. The fever stayed.

He hallucinated, he saw visions. Rosalyn was with child, it was sent by He Who Walks Behind the Rows. He would slain Isaac and bring a sense of peace towards His jaded religion.

He saw his victims, any man or woman he brought a knife to, they were lined up, faces contorted, screaming and screaming. His wounds enflamed, he felt what they felt. Pain. 'Mercy!' They screamed. 'Justice!'

All the while, he heard Isaac's voice, a stream of sermons sewn together as incoherent babble, droning on and on till the words lacked structure and it was a buzzing noise that vibrated his ears.

There was water too. It poured from the barn's window and filled his room. He was paralyzed, he couldn't run; it eventually engulfed him. He would wake up, choking and coughing.

When the fever finally broke, he woke to see Rosalyn, curled up in a wicker chair, asleep. He pulled himself up and rested on his elbows, the crinkling of the straw mattress jolted her awake. 'Malachi?'

He leaned back against the wall, 'Good morning, Rosalyn.'

She sighed softly, a small smile played out on her lips. 'Isaac said it was your time. He said He wished it.'

'How long have I been out?'

'Four days,' she replied, getting up and pouring water for him. 'They have been praying in the clearing. They said to leave you for Him to heal—'

His stomach twisted. 'Rosalyn.'

'I really thought you were going to die, Malachi,' she wrung her hands. 'For a day you just stopped everything. You didn't move, you didn't breathe; you were gone.'

'Rosalyn.' Her head turned to him, tears still born in her eyes. 'I am here now,' he voice was softer. He got up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. His legs buckled under him, but he managed to get to her side. 'It's okay.' He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head into his chest. He gave a brotherly kiss on top her head, her tears of relief left a wet spot on his shirt.

- - -

Only two people noted Malachi's seventeenth year. Isaac pulled him into the church office, Baptist Presbyterian before the Deliverance. 'No blood has spelled your name,' he said, his tone remorseful. 'In a year you go to him.'

An Other Beloved was decided by the blood of the sister. Her wrist would be slit and the blood would be collected in a phial. A strand of hair was taken from each brother and tied together. The hair would be set on a silver platter and the phial emptied on it. He Who Walks Behind the Rows would then spell the name of the most suitable boy in her blood.

Once an Other Beloved was assigned, there was a small ceremony to unite them and they would go to the Patterson's, a house owned by a wealthier Gatlin resident, rooms restored where the couples reside till there was a pregnancy. When the child has its fourth year, the parents go to Him.

Rosalyn pulled him away from the fields that evening. They walked to the outskirts of Gatlin to a small cottage, over run with corn stalks. Despite the peeling paint, the broken windows, it still seemed homely. The master bedroom was cleared; she had found clean linens in a hallway closet. Candles were lit and a cool breeze trickled threw the open windows.

The sat on the bed, cross legged and facing each other. Between them lay two gifts, homemade wrapping paper, a mixture of old magazines and newspapers. The first was the flannel shirt, which he shed his old one for exchange of the clean one. The second gift was a switch blade; the handle was prosthetic wood with tribal markings wrapping around. Engraved on the switch blade was a silver eagle on one side and a wolf on the other. He dropped his large hunting knife and sheathed the new one. 'Thank you.'

'One other thing,' she smiled, digging in a picnic basket she pulled out a small cake, carrot, with homemade frosting.

They spilt it, talking and giggling and teasing. They sprawled out on the bed and exchanged secrets and stories before the Deliverance. For a moment, there was no Isaac or Him; there were normal teenagers of Gatlin enjoying a Saturday evening.

Their playful banter grew a shade darker; he told her of the dreams he had for those four days. 'I lose my faith piece by day, Malachi. I've grown to hate Isaac,' she said solemnly.

'I've thought of what the Outlanders said before He took him,' he rolled on his side, head propped up by his arm. 'What is a religion without compassion?' He laid back and stared at the ceiling. 'I want to run to Hemingford and take a bus to Salt Lake City.' He turned his neck, 'I would want to take you with me.'

She rolled on her side, her eyes searching his. 'When I get out of here, I'm gonna take a long shower and have a greasy burger and fries and a banana shake. Oh, and I'd burn a Bible.'

He laughed, 'You have beautiful eyes. I've wanted to say that for a long time.'

She blushed. 'What do you want to do when you get out of Gatlin?'

'Read. Vonnegut, Joyce, Kerouac, all of them. I've always wanted to be an author.'

There was silence and then he leaned forward until his lips touched hers. She didn't let him pull away; he rolled on top, there kisses slowed with passion, their bodies grind in rhythm. Their clothes peeled off in layers and formed puddles on the floor. Their bodies molded together, an entanglement of arms and legs. Her nails bit into his back, she withered underneath his weight. His breathing was heavy, his body shuddered with pleasure.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. His fingers combed through her hair until her breathing slowed and she was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **Insanely short chapter, my apologies. Muses are on the fritz. Mostly because Rosalyn is lackluster. Another review, though. Huzzah! lady rose 05, thank you and as cheesy as the movie is, I love it and the red headed hottie. I promise more soon!

**Chapter IV**

Isaac was always watching them. They tore through the town and the fields, searching for Malachi and Rosalyn that one night. She stumbled for words, trying to piece together an excuse for their absence; Malachi interjected saying He had asked for a night of meditating and prayer. Isaac was not fully convinced, but was held off at the moment. He had eyes always watching, making it impossible for them to steal a moment for themselves.

A Sunday afternoon when Isaac's sermon was finished, Rosalyn walked towards town to help gather linen for washing. A hand clasped onto her forearm and she was pulled behind the barn. Malachi's lips pressed eagerly onto hers, she finally twisted away, breathless and smiling. 'Malachi,' she whispered, 'we cannot do this. If Isaac sees us—'

'Impossible,' he replied, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his neck. 'He hasn't the foggiest idea what is going on between us. We're too careful.'

'You call this careful?' She pulled away. 'It's mid afternoon!'

He jammed his fists into his pockets, 'I hate this,' he glanced over at her, 'lets run away.'

Her eyes shifted, 'Malachi—'

His eyes narrowed, 'You were so passionate about that thought a month ago. I can't even edge the idea out you. What changed?'

She sighed. 'It's more complicated than that,' her voice dropped, 'I'm pregnant.'

He fell a step back, his brow raised. 'Really?'

'I don't even have another Beloved. The ceremony isn't for another month! I'll probably be showing by then.'

'We have to leave.' She looked up at him. 'I want this,' he laid his palm onto her stomach. 'But I don't want this life for my child.'

'Where will we go?'

'I have family in Salt Lake.'

'And after that?'

'They'll help us. I'll get a job, any shit job. We'll save. We'll make it,' he grabbed her hands and held them in his own. 'Don't you think we can?'

Her mouth was slacked, her mind racing, 'Yes, we can, but is it—'

'We will wait, let Isaac lax his guard. I'm going to raid the town. There has to cash stashed in the houses. We'll lay low,' she nodded, her dark curls bobbing, 'we'll be fine. We will get out of here.' He lifted her chin, so her eyes would lock onto his, 'I promise you'll get out of here.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Malachi was calm; he did not struggle against them. They came up to Isaac. His back was to them, hands crossed and feet shoulder length apart. 'I have heard things, Malachi,' his speech was slow and deliberate. 'He Who Walks Behind the Rows has told me things.'

He turned around and waved others off, leaving him and Malachi alone. Sunlight streamed through the stain glassed window, sending colors dancing on the shag carpet, matted with dirt, peeling up at the corners. Malachi stared straight ahead, his eyes avoiding Isaac's ice stare. 'What things?'

Isaac stepped down from the platform and moved towards him. 'Anything you care to confess to?'

He felt cold, 'I don't understand what I am being accused of.'

Isaac's relaxed expression, harden. 'The Bible states that fornication should be done between a married man and woman.' He folded his hands in front of him. 'I can see she is expecting.'

Malachi didn't say anything. His heart slammed against his rib cage repetitively, his palms slick with sweat.

'He knows, Malachi,' Isaac's voice broke. He turned away, wringing his hands. He inhaled deeply, exhaled; long, shaky breathes. His precious Rosalyn, tainted. The twins caught them behind the barn. They said she was leaned against the barn; Malachi was kneeled down, his hand rested on her stomach. Isaac told his congress of children to keep tabs on them, to tell him anything they say. He had suspicions.

The ceremony would take place tonight and now he had to battle with himself. Could he accept the mistake growing in her stomach? Could he love her as his Other Beloved after she had been with another man? He smiled to himself. He was sure He would give him Rosalyn. 'Tonight is her ceremony. This will be dealt with tomorrow.' He looked at Malachi. 'You used to be such a servant to Him, Malachi. What has changed?'

It was rhetorical by his tone. Of course Malachi knew better than to launch into how his faith became lackluster once they sacrificed the doctor and his woman to Him. For a slight moment he wished for normalcy, without the horrified expressions of every man and woman he killed drift in and out of his dreams. Death at eighteen was loosing its appeal.

He instead voiced another concern, 'What about Rosalyn?'

'After she gives birth she will be dealt with. I am not a cruel kid, Malachi.' _You are not the only one who cares about Rosalyn. _He waved him to go.

Malachi got to his feet and started to walk out. 'Stay away from her,' Isaac called over his shoulder, his tone warning.

He ran. Tearing through the fields, corn husks whipping at him, he moved to the clearing, where the girls were laying out the laundry to air dry. 'Rosalyn!' He called out. She looked up from folding a smock. She saw the panic in his expression and got up to meet him.

He grabbed his arm and pulled her into the field, out of view. 'Isaac knows.'

She paled, 'How?'

He ran a hand through his hair, 'I'm not sure.'

'Should we leave?'

'We wouldn't make it. Every eye is on us now. The night after the ceremony, that early morning. No matter where we are, we must go. We'll meet up at the old man's garage.' She was numb and he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. 'We'll be okay.'

**- - -**

Word tore through their small community that Rosalyn was pregnant with Malachi's child.

All judgmental eyes stared as she walked towards the church. She wore a cream colored dress, trimmed in lace; her belly had begun to stretch out the front. Her hair was pulled up and daises were weaved into her curls. She held a small bouquet of lilacs tied together with a white ribbon.

Isaac was at the front, his gaze adoration. She moved towards him, her face burning. She felt Malachi's eyes; he was at the back of the church, leaned against the wall.

Her wrist still stung from extracting the blood earlier, a bruise forming around it. She stood off to the side and Isaac retrieved the phial. He cracked it open and the blood spilled and pooled around the hair of all the boys. An entity's finger began to write out a name; there wasn't enough to spell it fully but the beginning letters were sign enough: M A L A.

Isaac's eyes widen but his aloof persona did not give way. Rosalyn's heart smashed against her rib cage. Malachi craned his neck but couldn't see anything.

One drawn out moment was followed another until Isaac found his voice. 'Malachi, come forward.'

Light conversation wafted through the church. The illegitimate child would have both its parents after all.

_Lord, how could you have forsaken me?_

Malachi stepped onto the platform and Rosalyn stood across from him. He took her hands into his own; they were most and clammy.

'He Who Walks Behind the Rows wishes for the companionship of Malachi and Rosalyn. May this union be profitable to Him.'

'To Him,' the children echoed.

_Lord, what am I to do now?_

'You may kiss now.'

They leaned till their lips lightly brushed and then it became clear to Isaac, like a soft whisper in his ear.

_Kill him._

'Go now, as Beloveds, to the Patterson's for a night of confirmation of this union.' The older children laughed quietly; Isaac's ice stare shushed them. 'There will be a breakfast banquet tomorrow in the clearing. Until then.'

Their fingers enlaced and Malachi and Rosalyn walked out of the church, in a daze, towards the Patterson's. Someone called out from behind them. 'It's Rachel,' Rosalyn whispered.

She caught up to them, breathless. 'Congratulations,' she said. She held out two silver rings. 'Isaac meant to give them to you.'

**- - -**

He had to be quick. There was a complimentary dinner set up in the master bed room. He found the bottle of wine and cracked it open. The powder clumped and floated on top, but he shook it until it dissolved. He slipped out the back door.

**- - -**

When she saw his silhouette, she stopped the stalling conversation and smiled at Malachi and gave Rosalyn a kiss on the cheek. 'Luck to you both!' And scurried off, leaving the newly Beloved's confused.

She met up with him behind the barn. 'Isaac!'

'You did well, my child,' he laid his hand on her cheek for a brief moment.

She placed her hand on top of his and held it there. His eyes locked onto hers then he quickly pulled away. 'Rachel-'

'Isaac,' she whispered. 'What we had…'

'It cannot happen again,' he turned away. 'It is not His will.'

'Damn that!' Her fists clenched at her sides. 'Can it not be what you want for one moment?'

'What I want is another's Beloved.' He snapped.

She recoiled, his words a slap to her face. 'Rosalyn. Placid and plain. I don't understand what you see in her. She has been impregnated by another boy, Isaac. Let it be!'

'We are meant for one another!'

'Then why wasn't your name spelled in her blood?' She squared off to him, her eyes narrowed and locked onto his.

'It is meant to happen,' he repeated again.

'Then what were we?'

'A mistake.' And he turned and walked away.


End file.
